


These wicked things you want to do

by Bebraveforever27



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Female Armin Arlert, No Romance, Pre-Time Skip, So they still fifteen in this, a little slow at first, but eventually there is smut, but sometime after the reclamation of Wall Maria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26276701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebraveforever27/pseuds/Bebraveforever27
Summary: It's been a month, maybe more, since they took back Wall Maria.After encountering Floch outside the barracks, she knows what he wants. His hands and mouth that night had made his intentions known, loud and clear. Armin gave her consent freely, but wonders how far he will go. He's been a right asshole since they got back from Shiganshina, so it can't just be pure carnal need.Maybe they shouldn't be wanting to do this, but they are.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Floch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 10/25/2020: MY DUMB FUCKING ASS DELETED MY AUTHOR'S NOTE. HOLY FUCK!
> 
> _Here we goooo. I can't remember what I wrote the first time. so here's Round two:_
> 
> HELLO! This is my first Attack on Titan | Shingeki no Kyojin fanfic. After finally finishing the anime _(let me just say I loved Matt Mercer as Levi. Yeah I'm a dub person. Fite me [no don't actually do that I can't fight for shit lol])_ and with how much I'm loving the manga _(I'm going to have to re-read it just for comparison between anime and manga) _, I decided to try my hand at writing an AOT | SnK fanfic.__
> 
> __And for some reason my brain was like "Floch/Armin with fem!Armin." I should have questioned it, but I didn't so I was like "alright" and here we are. I am so sorry._ _
> 
> __**This work takes place before the time-skip and thus contains characters who are around the age of fifteen. If future sexual acts between teenagers upsets you or makes you uncomfortable, please close the page now. You have been warned** _ _

She didn't actively go looking for him and he hadn't gone looking for her either —that's what Armin would say if anyone asked because it was the honest _truth_. It was pure coincidence, honestly, that she encountered Floch outside the barrack late in the evening. She'd just been coming back from titan experiments á la Hange (she still can't get over the fact she was a _titan_ now, let alone the _colossus_ titan), ready for bed — somewhat relieved that she has a reasonable excuse for why she is returning to the barracks past curfew but not glad of _why_ — and she merely happened to see him outside of the barracks. "It's past curfew," she said. "They'll have you mucking out stalls if you're caught." 

"Not you though, right?" he asked, his brown eyes nothing more than narrowed slits. Armin didn't reply, knowing it would likely just end up making him mad and while she sometimes appreciates him for being a realist and telling the truth as he sees it, she's just too tired to deal with it tonight. Not that she _liked_ hearing him talk about how her survival was a mistake. Not that she _liked_ him acting like it was _her_ fault that _she_ was the one Levi chose to inject with the Titan serum. When he acted like that, talked like that she wanted to scream at him that she didn’t _choose_ this, that she didn’t _want_ this. That it had been done without her knowledge, without her input — not that she could have said anything against it at the time because she hadn’t even been conscious due to how painful being burned alive was, due to being at death’s doorstep. But she couldn’t. She didn’t know how. Or maybe she did but it was her own insecure self that stopped her. 

But it seemed that he didn’t want a reply because he answered his own question. “No of course not. Curfew rules don’t apply to you or even Eren anymore when Commander Hange is doing her titan research.” 

“That’s not true,” she said. “The rules still apply, but I have a valid reason on the nights when I’m not back by curfew.” _Unfortunately, it's not one that I like._ But honestly who would? Who would actually like being able to turn into a titan? And have the knowledge that someone was eaten in order to be human again? _Poor Bertholt._

Floch shrugged with one shoulder, indicating he didn’t quite believe her. “Whatever. It’s not like they can actually enforce it anyway, considering that the Survey Corps still only has two commanding officers left after Shiganshina.” The edge in his tone had her wanting to turn away, to turn away _right now_ because she knows the implications of that tone. It all goes back to one thing after all. 

Her shoulders slumped. “Floch, please. It’s not my fault that Commander Erwin is dead and I’ve already agreed with you that he should have been the one to live instead.” She had to clench her fists to stop her body from trembling because she was terrified and anxious and didn’t even know what this self-proclaimed ‘coward’ was capable of. If she said the wrong thing, would he hurt her? If she said the wrong thing, would he take her insecurities and use them against? If she said what he wanted to hear, what would he do then? “Humanity is likely screwed without Erwin. That is fact, not opinion. Even putting my brain and strategies up for use, I don’t think Commander Hange and I can even come up with any close to whatever Commander Erwin could.” Even if he incurred casualties, the late commander had a knack for making gambles that paid off. It was stressful knowing that she and Hange were almost expected to replicate that success. 

The red-headed young man said nothing in response to that so she kept going. “Even though we all know this, why am I getting the blame? Why am I treated like I’m the one at fault? If I had been conscious, I would have insisted that the serum had gone to Erwin too.” 

She heard his footsteps, by the sound of how close they were getting she knew he was approaching her. Opening her eyes — when had she even closed them? — she saw Floch standing in front of her, too close to even call the distance an arm lengths away. She wanted to back up, to run away, but her legs couldn’t…wouldn’t move. “At least _you’re_ logically,” he muttered gruffly. He lifted a hand as if to reach out (reach out and do what, she wondered) only to drop back down to his side. “You’re logical…and that’s more than I can say for Eren.” Then, without another word, without even a second’s hesitation…he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. 

Surprised, she stumbled back. She lifted a hand to her lips — they felt almost tingly — and looked at him with wide-eyes. Wondering what had gotten into him, she whispered, “What are you—“ 

He cut her off. “Don’t misunderstand. This isn’t a confession or anything of that sort.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Cupping her face, he leaned down again, whispering, the warmness of his breath tickling her lips, “This is me deciding that you need a punishment,” then he was kissing her. And Armin didn’t know what to do, how to react. Did she push him away? Or pull him closer? But it seemed her body had decided for her because within what might have been seconds she is grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and trying to pull him closer. Floch complied, pulling her as close as he can to him. His hands move towards her shoulders and slowly down towards her waist, feeling the soft curves of her body as he does so. 

She whimpered at his touch and he greedily swallowed the sound. His lips moving against hers and she feels like she is out of her depth, but she still she reciprocates, her mouth movements more shy, more gentle — reflecting her uncertainty. He said punishment and she had wondered at that, but when she felt his hands exploring her, she understood. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating, even though it should have solely been the former. Maybe. She should wonder why at that, but she doesn’t, chalking it off to that age and well… 

Floch _was_ an attractive young man, even though he proved that he could be a bit of an ass. 

She gasps, startled when his hands drift down to her bottom. She feels him smirk against her mouth and her cheeks redden. That was deliberate, he wanted that reaction, he _liked_ that reaction. Of course he did. She finds a part of her herself _liking_ that fact. Punishment for a perceived crime or not, she was _not_ going to let him turn her body into a weapon, a tool against herself. Not now, not _ever_. She presses against him, reaches down to grab one of his hands, and places it against the swell of her breast, letting him know in no uncertain terms that whatever he did now she was consenting to. He squeezed her breast harshly, making her moan (in pain? pleasure?), showing his understanding and acceptance of that. 

Somehow, eventually, she manages to pull away, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She can almost feel his eyes roaming over her face, taking in her disheveled state and by the pleased look in his eyes, he likes what he sees. She likes what she sees too. His kiss-swollen lips, the flush to his cheeks, the confident smirk painted on his featured and she wonders how can a man call himself a coward when he can exude _this_ level of confidence. _Maybe it’s different,_ she thinks as she reaches up to touch him, _facing titans several meters high and facing a woman who only just barely comes up to his chin_. 

Or maybe, the more likely answer, he's just faking this much confidence. 

Out loud, she says, “For a punishment this feels…good.” She tilted her head. “Punishments aren’t meant to be pleasant.” Based on experience, she could say they weren’t. But part of her was curious as to what he was planning. 

Floch leaned forward and practically purred in her ear, “I haven’t even gotten started yet.” He nibbled on her earlobe, pinched her rear, and pulled away. She watched, almost as though she were in a trance, as he left. Eventually, she returns to reality and enters the barracks, cheeks a furious red. 

She returns to her room hurriedly. Pulling the sheets back after locking the door, she begins to strips down so that she can put on some proper sleeping clothes. Her mind drifted to Floch and what just happened. It had been out of character for him (usually he just avoids her or scowls in her direction or once again makes it overly abundantly clear that Erwin should have been the one to survive), but...it had been kind of nice, she realizes. For once, he was actually...civil. 

_What exactly is it that he plans to do to me?_ She knows what he wants, felt it in the way his hands had traced her curves. But still, she knows what he wants, knows his intentions, but how far will he go, she wonders as she slides beneath her sheets. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working on college homework, but I wanted to post this (first chapter) instead. My first 1k+ word fic in forever, guys! I'm _so_ excited~!
> 
> My one and forever question is though: How can Floch look so damn cute and yet such a self-righteous douche? I love him, but I hate him. I love to hate him. I just want to smack some sense into him, I swear. Like, "SENSE BOY DO YOU SPEAK IT?" 
> 
> (Then there's Eren and oh boy I am not opening that can of worms)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s not her fault. He knows that. He _knows _that. He didn't need to be told that. But…it was easier."__
> 
> Late night thoughts and late to training — the punishment for the latter is not fun. Floch wishes he were running laps instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had this chapter and the previous chapter already typed out and ready to go.

Floch wasn’t going to lie, no of course he wasn't. He was pissed that Erwin is dead and he was pissed that it was _Armin_ who Levi picked to inject the serum with. Humanity was screwed without their late commander (and part of him was relieved to know that Armin herself had agreed with that sentiment). No ifs and/or buts about it. Did that make it right to take it out on the tiny blonde? No, but it was just…easier, for some reason, to direct his anger towards her. She didn’t fight back, but she didn’t run away either. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so _frustrating_. It made him want to pull his hand. _I’m being an ass_ , he wanted to scream _, so fight back! Why are you letting me bring you down?!_ But she never did. She just ducked her head, hunched her shoulders, and tried to make herself as small as possible. As nonthreatening as possible but still refusing to run away. Non-confrontational yet somehow standing firm. 

It was frustrating. It was admirable. He held a dislike for her but he wanted her. Small and delicate and fragile and _it set such a fire to his veins_ at the same time that it almost terrified him. 

But still she needed to be punished. It’s not her fault. He knows that. He _knows_ that. He didn't _need_ to be told that. But…it was easier. She was reachable. Touchable. The thought of what he wanted to do to her — make her cry and plead and _beg_ for more — filled him with want and need. Not all punishments had to be painful and, well… 

She _did_ give her consent. Consent which was revocable at any time, of course, but for right now she was willing, if her actions last night were of any indication. (Just the feel of the swell of her breast had sent an ache down to his groin. He was honestly amazed that she hadn’t felt his clothed erection pressing against her, at all). It had taken strength he didn’t know he had to pull away instead of fucking her right then and there. It had taken a strength he didn’t know he possessed to walk away and enter the barracks. He didn’t, however, resist gripping his cock, when he got beneath his bed sheets. He had fisted his arousal furiously, desperately, biting his hand to keep the noises he made muffled, letting his imagination run wild with each stroke. Lips red and swollen from kisses, tears in her eyes from how desperate she would be for release (but he wouldn't give it to her until he himself was stated). He remembered something he read in a book during his cadet days: where one of the characters tied up their lover, blindfolded them, took a paddle to their skin — all with their lover's consent. He entertains the thought of doing that to Armin. 

Though after he was finished, he acknowledged that perhaps she wouldn't actually like that (putting it into practice, he might find that he doesn't like it either). 

A snapping of fingers brought him back to the present. Blinking and looking up, Floch found himself with a hopeful-looking Sasha in his face and pointing down at his breakfast. "So uh...you've been staring at that for fifteen minutes now," she said. "You gonna finish it?" He stared blankly at her for a few moments before he started eating, ignoring her. Mentally, he scolded himself. He was so lost in thought that time had passed him by without even knowing. He needed to be more aware. Looking around he saw that him and Sasha were among the only ones left in the mess hall and he cursed himself again. He was definitely mucking out the stalls after training today as punishment for being tardy. He glared at Sasha when the brunette made an unhappy noise at loss of food. Food that was his. 

_Her and her endless appetite,_ he thought as she walked away. _A miracle there's any food left at all._ He still cringes whenever he remembers the feast before the Survey Corps had gone off on that expedition to reclaim Shiganshina and Wall Maria, cringes whenever he remembers the way the young woman had acted because of the meat (the way they had _all_ acted because of there being meat to eat. It was unfair to put that behavior all on Sasha). Unprofessional behavior unbefitting a soldier. Not like he had acted any more professionally at the memorial service so he didn't really have a right to judge her. 

(No matter _how_ justified he thinks his outburst was). 

* * *

Like he thought, after squad training he is mucking out the stalls. Punishment for being late, for being the last to arrive. Sasha too, though he didn't really care. He stayed closer to the entrance and Sasha was further away. Any attempts at conversation she made, he either ignored or gave short, clipped responses and Sasha eventually gave up. That was likely for the best. He didn't need the distraction and the sooner he got this down, the sooner he can leave and wash up. The smell was absolutely awful — honest to God, it was _awful_ — and he didn't want to be in here any longer than he had to be; he didn't want to risk his clothes soaking up the horrendous scent. It would take _days_ for him to wash it out of his uniform. 

With a grunt, he dumped the soiled bedding in the designated manure pile outside the barn. Besides him, he can hear Sasha do the same. "Man this is awful," she complained, setting the wheelbarrow back down to the ground. "I'd rather be running laps than doing this." 

Silently, Floch agreed. Laps would be better than this, but you don't get to choose your punishment in the military, so they were both stuck with this until the stalls were completely clean. Which while willing (albeit reluctantly) to do, he mourned over how it delayed his 'revenge' a little while longer. If he had gotten stuck doing laps like Armin — who had done so poorly, once again, during the physical aspect of today's training, she ended up getting stuck with having to run laps — he might have lured her away and gotten started on her 'punishment'. But no. Here he is cleaning out the horse stalls. _Horses that haven't even seen use in the two months since the Shiganshina expedition,_ he thinks as he pushes the wheelbarrow back to the stable. It wasn’t a bitter thought (coward that he was, he is _relieved_ that they haven’t had any reason to go outside the walls _yet_ ), but merely an observation. 

“Six more stalls to go,” he said, pushing the wheelbarrow back towards the stables. “And then we have to clean the stall mats.” _Oh joy._

Behind him, he heard Sasha groan in frustration and despair. He smirked a little at that, a little glad that he’s not the only one suffering today. 

Hours later, they are done and he is off to bathe, muscles aching and wishing to rid himself of any stench of manure on his person. _I’ll have to spend hours washing my uniform_ , he thought as he made his way to the wash rooms, _before I manage to get rid of the stink._ It’s not the first time he’s had to clean stables — having had to do so before when he was still a cadet — but it’s not any more pleasant than the first time around. He wants to say he'll refuse to do it, that he’ll argue and plead and beg to avoid, but he knows he won’t. A soldier cannot choose their punishment and insubordination will only result in more discipline, if not a one way ticket out of the military. And he wasn't a child anymore. He was a soldier, first for the Garrison and now of the Survey Corps. He had to act like it. 

(Ironic considering the way he had acted at the memorial service. Ironic considering his behavior towards Armin, towards the scouts). 

A brief stop at the barracks to grab some soap and new clothes, then his trek to the washrooms resumes. Stripping out of his sullied uniform, he lets the spray of the shower hit him, a quiet groan leaving him at the feel of warm water cascading over his muscles, sore from training and from cleaning out the stables. As he showers, he thinks, _How long should I wait...before acting?_

If he waited too long, the blonde might lose interest or become irritated at what might be perceived as a waste of time. If he moved too soon, it might come off as simply a need for release from sexual frustration. (He scolded himself a little for wanting to run laps earlier just for the sake of being able to...No. After some thought, he realized that that would have most certainly been too soon).

Timing was key. Timing was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting this off by saying: Third chapter will take some time to get out as I'm not even finished with it. In other news, I am halfway done with homework for one class and have yet to start on homework for another. Online schooling is fucking with my time management. Goddammit 'Rona.
> 
> I'm just gonna say it. I don't like Floch's hair in the timeskip. Neat hair does not suit him. I liked tousled-hair Floch better.


End file.
